Getting Out
by Radical.2
Summary: Hermione Granger's never considered herself a workaholic... she just loves her work. But it's been years since her last vacation, and the ministry's therapists are after her- namely, the new guy: Draco Malfoy. It's easy to fall in love in a labyrinth...
1. Fix Me

**J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.**

"What makes you happy?" the man asks me.

"Studying," I answer immediately. "Reading. Working."

He gives me an odd look.

I gave him the wrong answer, didn't I?

But it's the truth.

"Okay... What do you do for fun outside of work?"

"I, er... Well, I... I like to read?" I offer up, grimacing.

"Other than that," the man says.

I remain quiet.

The questions just keep coming, though.

"What's your favorite store?"

"Flourish and Blotts," I say quickly. "I mean, er-"

"Favorite food?"

"Spaghetti!" I blurt out.

I hate spaghetti.

"Hermione..." the man says with a sigh. "Can you even see it?"

"See what?"

I honestly can't believe that I'm even here, to be honest.

How did I end up in a therapist's office?

I'm a perfectly faithful ministry employee.

I have friends.

I have enemies.

There is nothing wrong with me!

"Have you ever considered yourself a bit of a workaholic?"

"No, because I love my work," I say strongly. "It's what I live for."

"Do you have a non-platonic relationship with anyone?"

"No," I say meekly.

"Have you ever?"

"Yes, of course. Kind of."

"And how did those "kind-of"s end, exactly?"

"I kind of got... I was too, well, busy to maintain anything long-term."

"Are you always busy?"

"No. I mean, I take breaks."

"Reading does not count in this case."

"Why not?" I ask the therapist, affronted. "I love to read!"

"Do you ever feel like you've created a fantasy world for yourself in books so that you won't have to deal with actual problems in the real world?"

He gives me a serious type of look.

"No!" I say immediately.

He continues to stare.

"Well, maybe a little. But hardly at all!" I add.

"Hermione," he says my name again. "When was your last vacation?"

"Last summer."

"No, Hermione. I have your files from work. That was three years ago."

Three years?

That can't be.

They mixed up my files with someone else's.

"May I?" I gesture to the folders the therapist is holding.

"You aren't authorized to-"

"Please?" I say. "I mean, I just can't believe this."

I sigh and look up at the ceiling.

"Hermione, it's okay. It's an automatic thing for employees as good and hard-working as you to get sent to me. I'm just here to make sure it's not because you're neglecting other parts of your life for work. People need a healthy balance."

"So I'm free to go now?"

I'm half-up from my seat already.

"Not quite," the man says. "You see..."

No, no, please, no.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"You've tested high in certain disorders, especially for being a bit of a- to use simple terms- a workaholic."

"I am not," I say immediately, standing up. "I just love my work. You can't stop me from working and doing what I want to do!

No one can."

"Hermione!" he calls after me, but I'm already out the door.

Only to run smack into Draco Malfoy.

"What are you doing down here?" he asks in his work voice: pleasant, placid, and totally BS-ing.

"I could ask the same of you," I reply with a fake smile.

Malfoy glances at the swung-open door behind me.

"You weren't... I mean, we always kind of knew," he says.

"Knew what?" I demand.

"That you're crazy about work. It's all you do, and now it's gotten you on floor eight: therapy."

"That's a lie!"

Of course, it's right then that that idiot therapist has to call my name again.

Malfoy gives me the same look I was getting before.

"Go away," I say.

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I've been thrown down here, too. And there's one thing that's stopping you from leaving," Malfoy says seriously.

"What's that?" I ask irritably.

"You can't. Not until you're fixed."

"Fixed?" I echo, panicking. "What is 'fixed'?"

"First, they find out what your problem is.

Then, they fix it, by whatever means possible."

"What?" I say, eyes wide.

"It's all for the good of the company, Granger. Can't have those crazy people walking around and disrupting the order. Otherwise, you might end up like him."

And we all know who "him" is.

Voldemort.

"Well, as lovely as this chat was, it has to end now. So I suggest that you get back in that office before you get hurt."

Malfoy looks like he's serious.

And like he's not the one who would hurt me.

Oh, shit.

**Questions, comments, concerns, problems, issues? If so, review! :)**


	2. Take Me

I peek my head into the therapist's office again.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he says politely.

"You really are trying to make him think you're crazy, aren't you?" Malfoy mutters from behind me.

I wave him off and step into the office.

I am calm, collected, and perfectly fine.

"I've made a decision," I inform him.

"And?"

"I'm going to take a vacation," I say grandly, crossing my arms.

Ha! Take that, Mr. ... Therapist-Guy?

Something like that.

Therapist Guy sighs, runs a hand through his hair.

"What?" I demand, then remember myself.

"What is it?" I ask slowly, measuring his expression.

"You can't just do that," he says.

"It doesn't work that way," he continues.

"Well, why not?" I ask, my voice starting to sound rather mad.

Mad-crazy, not mad-angry.

Well, both.

"There are set... You see, you need proof.

That you're not just BS-ing us and working all the time, regardless.

You see what I mean, Miss?" he adds hesitantly.

"Not really," I groan.

I think for a moment.

"Can't you just let me off for another year or so?"

"I'm afraid I cannot."

"So, then... How long will this take?

I have places to get to," I impatiently inform Therapist Guy.

Who then proceeds to take off his glasses and sigh for the thousandth time.

And then say more of the same nonsense he has been.

"Miss Granger, you aren't understanding this correctly.

Until you've proved that you're back to normal, you're here."

"Here?" I squeak.

"So.. for how long?"

"Whatever it takes," the man says.

"Define 'here'," I order him.

"This floor. This building."

Dammit.

Dammit, dammit, dammit-

Hey.

Wait a second.

"Why is Malfoy here, then?

Is he like me, too?" I wonder.

I'm hoping on this, actually.

"Normally, I wouldn't say this of another wizard on this floor, but..."

I lean in.

I listen.

I wait.

"But he's just begun working here," Therapist finishes.

Wordless.

Okay, one word:

Dammit.

Or does that really count as two?

Two: Damn him.

And Therapist.

"I think I did misunderstand," I say politely, trying to smile.

"Again," I add.

"You aren't serious, right?"

I just get a grave look in return.

I can tell what he's thinking.

He thinks that I really am crazy.

Hasn't he ever heard that idleness is a bad thing?

Well, apparently not.

A knock on the door.

We both look up.

Him again, dammit.

"Miss Granger, this man will be your-"

Oh, please no, please, please, please...

"Well, what we like to call a 'helper'."

"Kill me now," I mutter.

"Because I'm going to help you!" Malfoy says cheerfully.

"And I'm going to bite you," I reply snappishly.

He and Therapist exchange a significant glance.

This is definitely not my best day here at the ministry.

Definitely.

Not.

"Now, Miss Granger-" Therapist begins after a moment of staring between them and me...

I interject.

"I'm not crazy!" I tell them, nearly yelling.

"I'm not mad, and I don't hurt people for a living!

"I help them- and not like whatever the hell it is that you do, Malfoy.

"So just...

"Oh, just fuck off and let me get back to work!" I finish.

Now I'm yelling.

And I'm still getting that look.

That yes-she's-definitely-psycho look.

"Miss Granger..."

"Hermione," Malfoy says suddenly.

"No.

"You're staying here."

"No!" I cry, and at this point I could care less about what they think of me.

"I'm not going anywhere with you freaks!"

I run out.

I run out the door, down the hall, back to the lift...

But it's gone.

I zap the wall with my wand.

Again.

And again.

I hit the wall, and it's the same thing.

I run, and run, and run.

Different hallway.

Same thing.

Another hallway.

Same, exact thing.

Same white walls, same dark, unyielding doors, same empty hallways...

This place is a labyrinth.

And now I'm back where I started, somehow.

"Take me away," I order.

"Traitor."

And then Malfoy takes me by the arm, and listens.

**A/N: Okay, that was one of the most dramatic things I've written in a while... Ideas, hate comments, problems, whichever? Then review! :)**


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